


A Tearful Reunion

by scaredyghost



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Feels, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, Hugs, Light Angst, Love Confessions, Reunions, Romance, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 02:22:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18378983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaredyghost/pseuds/scaredyghost
Summary: Ana comes back from the dead. Reinhardt is granted a second chance with her.





	A Tearful Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by:  
> 1\. This lovely fanart I saw on Twitter by @smnius (https://twitter.com/smnius/status/887361840161972224/photo/1)  
> 2\. @ventiskull on Twitter, who informed me that there aren't enough Anahardt fics on Ao3, a problem tailor-made for me to fix.
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! 🙏🙇🖤 I love all your kudos and comments. I am so grateful every day for this lovely community and I hope I can become a greater part of it someday.

It didn't take much noise to make the old Watchpoint laboratory feel stifling in its loudness, but the uproar of laughter coming from within boomed and echoed with enough force to make the walls shiver. Its source, Reinhardt Wilhelm, pounded the table at its center with his fist, sending shock waves through the steel and rattling the cups resting on top of it.

 

"So!" The older German bellowed with his characteristic enthusiasm. "Brigitte tells me you've recently adopted an omnic!"

 

Torbjörn Lindholm, the stocky man sitting across from him, scowled and grumbled into his beverage. "I don't want to talk about it."

 

"Don't be modest, Papa." Brigitte chuckled, patting his back affectionately. "I think it's a good thing. And that Bastion isn't like the others, is he?"

 

Torbjörn snorted and set his cup down. "It's a freak of nature, is what it is. Faulty programming."

 

"Papa..."

 

_"Bah,_ don't listen to him, Brigitte," Reinhardt assured his squire with a grin and a wink. "He once said the same thing about you, and no one would call you faulty, now!"

 

Brigitte balked. _"What?!"_

 

"Anyone willing to follow _you_ around has _clearly_ got a few screws loose." Torbjörn fired back at his friend, tapping a temple with one of his thick fingers.

 

"Hey!" Brigitte wailed.

 

"She gets it from her mother, of course."

 

_"Papa!"_

 

Reinhardt tossed his head back and erupted with laughter again, leaning back in his seat to make room for the massive sound.

 

"Ahhh, it's good to have the gang together again!" Reinhardt cried. "Though Brigitte is _exquisite_ company," He said this with a polite nod to the youngest Lindholm, who smiled her thanks, "It's been wonderful to reunite with the others. And to greet the newest recruits!"

 

Torbjörn finally cracked a short-lived smile. "It does feel good to have everyone back, doesn't it?" He agreed wistfully.

 

"That it does!" Reinhardt agreed. "Well... almost everyone..."

 

A silence fell crept the room. Their unspoken grief hung thick in the humid summer air that wafted through the windows. Even all these years later, the pains of their tremendous loss would sneak up on them, hiding in the shadows, waiting for unsuspecting moments to jab another knife into their weary hearts. Jack Morrison, Ana Amari, and Gabriel Reyes. Three of the most heroic and passionate people Reinhardt and Torbjörn had ever had the honor to know. The three catalysts that brought them all together, united in their mission to make the world a better place. Veritable gods among men who spearheaded a golden age of prosperity and inspired generations.

 

All wiped from the face of the Earth like their existence never mattered.

 

Brigitte felt it too, in her own way. Mostly, she empathized with the pain of her father and de-facto uncle, which she expressed by reaching for Torbjörn's hand, squeezing comfortingly. Torbjörn patted her arm in appreciation.

 

"There's no use getting emotional about it." He muttered to himself as much as the others. "They'd want us to move forward without them. They'd understand how important this is. The world needs Overwatch again."

 

Reinhardt nodded solemnly. "Agreed, my diminutive Swedish friend." He said fondly, smiling when Torbjörn rolled his eyes at the familiar, if slightly pejorative, term of endearment, "But what I wouldn't give to have them back with us."

 

Torbjörn lowered his eye in acknowledgment. It did seem painfully wrong that the three people most instrumental in Overwatch's creation and success couldn't be with them now, during its resurrection. Winston and Lena Oxton--the one called Tracer--were commendable leaders in their own right. It seemed especially fitting that Lena, the not-so-secret darling of the original Overwatch Strike Commander, Jack Morrison, would step up to fill the leadership role he left behind. But it wasn't the same. Nothing was the same without the legendary Strike Trio.

 

The old engineer watched Reinhardt begin to sink back into his pain and felt a twinge of pity. The loss of Ana was agony for all but unbearable for his dear old friend. The ex-lieutenant's grief was compounded by a lost opportunity to act upon the unrequited affection the world knew he had for her. It was a tragic shame; they were perfect for each other, Torbjörn had thought. But they'd never have the chance to find out for certain.

 

Caught up in their individual inner worlds, nobody noticed the door slide open or the shadow of the figure that lurked in the entryway, who, after going unnoticed for several seconds, cleared their throat gently.

 

"That's funny," said a familiar voice, "I know I heard that noisy old Reinhardt but all I see are a couple of simpering, sad old men."

 

All three sets of eyes locked on the doorway in unison. Reinhardt's drink was tossed forgotten to the floor as he leaped to his feet, shoving the table into Torbjörn's midsection and nearly sending the older man sailing backward. Brigitte caught her father, but only just barely, as she stared slack-jawed at the woman across the room.

 

They all stared in wide-eyed shock. Reinhardt began to tremble.

 

_"It cannot be..."_ he whispered, his throat suddenly raw and dry.

 

"I don't believe it..." Torbjörn blurted.

 

Ana Amari grinned playfully. She folded her arms across her chest, leaning casually against the doorframe, and crossed her legs at the ankles.

 

"Come now," she teased, "That's no way to greet an old friend, is it?" She stood up straight and outstretched her arms with a warm smile. "It's good to see you two. And you, Brigitte. You've grown so much."

 

The air rushed from the room. Time seemed to freeze as the trio processed the sight before them. Ana Amari. No one had seen her since that fateful day over ten years ago. They never found her. They thought her dead. They had a funeral. She was the first of the Legendary Trio to be buried.

 

But there she was. Older, with shockingly white hair and one of her eyes covered by a thick, weather-worn eyepatch. But there, standing in the Watchpoint doorway, very much alive.

 

_"A...ANA!"_ Tobjorn howled with joy, but could barely get to his feet before Reinhardt took off across the room. The Crusador lurched to her as if pulled by strings, the heavy thunder of his footsteps making the whole lab rumble and rattle on its foundations. He collapsed to his knees before her and tossed his arms around her hips, dragging her close enough to bury his tear-streaked face into her soft midsection.

 

"It's impossible... I'm dreaming...." He sobbed, "It's really you! After all this time... _Ana, mein Ana,_  you're alive..."

 

When words finally failed him, he simply held her and wept. He crushed his face against her body, his trembling hands gripping her for dear life, terrified to let her slip away, break the illusion, pull him from this incredible and impossible dream he must be having. But she was real. Her body was solid and hard with muscle and sinew. Her skin was warm to the touch. He could feel the ebb and flow of the breath in her stomach. Ana Amari was alive.

 

Ana closed her eye and reached down to card her trembling fingers through his hair, chuckling awkwardly.

 

"Oh... stop it, you old fool." She teased half-heartedly, the words getting caught in her throat. "You're going to get me started."

 

Across the room, Brigitte smiled and wiped tears from her own eyes. She wrapped her arms around her father's shoulders and hugged him. He gratefully patted her arm, his own eye misting over.

 

"We'll uh... give them the room for a minute." He said slyly, nodding toward the door at Brigitte. "Welcome back, Ana."

 

Ana smiled gratefully at Torbjörn as he and Brigitte slipped away. Once they were alone, she stepped back from Reinhardt and knelt down in front of him, her hand on his shoulder. He doubled over, a hand over his mouth to contain the sobs rattling inside him, tears splashing against the floor beneath him.

 

"I thought you were dead." He moaned. _"How--"_

 

"It's a long story." Ana shushed him. She gently took his chin in her hand and tilted his face upward to meet hers. Pain crossed her features, knotting her eyebrows together. "One that doesn't make me look very good, either, I'm afraid. I'm sorry, Reinhardt. I wish I could have told you sooner. All of you. But I just wasn't ready. I... needed time."

 

Reinhardt finally managed to look at her. He studied his friend's face, scanning every inch of her, taking in every new detail. He cupped her cheek in his hand and rubbed his thumb against the eye patch.

 

"Your eye..."

 

Smiling softly, Ana covered his hand with hers and leaned into the touch, closing her eye. "It's alright." She assured him. "It doesn't hurt. I don't miss it. And I can still out-snipe anybody."

 

A smile finally broke through Reinhardt's chiseled features. He sniffed tremendously and wiped his damp face.

 

"I thought I'd never see you again." He whispered.

 

"You haven't missed much." Ana comforted with an anemic chuckle. "I'm old and frumpy now."

 

_"Nonsense!"_ Reinhardt cried, meeting her gaze with sudden intensity. "You're as radiant as ever."

 

"Ha! Charmer."

 

"Ana," He took Ana's tiny hands in his, squeezing them tightly. She blinked up at him but his gaze held firm. "To be with you again at all is a miracle. I would have given anything to see you again. When you disappeared, I had so many regrets..."

 

He slid his hand up Ana's cheek once more. "I've been given a second chance." He told her. "And I do not intend to waste it. Will you hear me out?"

 

Confused, Ana nodded silently. Reinhardt heaved his battle-worn body to his feet, tightly clutching Ana's hands in his.

 

"Ana Amari," The former Lieutenant rumbled, "From the very instant I first laid eyes upon you, not a moment has passed that I did not love you with every part of myself. When I lost you, I lost part of my soul. No injury, no failure, no other loss has ever hurt me like losing you did."

 

Eyes misting over, he tenderly cupped Ana's cheek in his hand once more, swiping the stream of her tears away with his thumb.

 

"But to have you back," Reinhardt continued hoarsely, "That is my greatest joy. I could die tomorrow the happiest man in the world."

 

Ana blinked away another tear and giggled, resting one of her hands against the back of his.

 

"Well, please don't." She says, "I was hoping to spending more than a night with you."

 

The tension dissolved with their hushed laughter. Reinhardt leaned down to press his forehead against hers. They closed their eyes in unison.

 

"Nothing would make me happier," He told her, "Than to stay by your side for the rest of my days."

 

Ana's warm smile broadened. She pulled away from him and, when he looked up, met Reinhardt's lips with a chaste and happy kiss before tossing her arms around his shoulders and pulling him in close.

 

"What a coincidence," She mumbled into the crook of his neck. "Because that's _exactly_ where I want you to be."

 

A soft blush crept along the apples of Reinhardt's cheeks. Closing his eyes, he enveloped Ana in his arms and returned a kiss to the top of her head. They held each other close in silence, reacquainting themselves with the experience of each other's touch, comparing the old and the new. They both looked so different on the outside--far more tired, more scars and wrinkles, and much whiter hair--but the smells that drifted from their skin and clothes and the beating of their hearts were exactly as they each remembered them, unmarred by time, like the strength of their love for one another.

 

Ana released the breath she never knew she'd been holding. Overwatch was her home. But it didn't feel like coming home until the moment she saw Reinhardt. Her dearest friend. Her family. Her companion. The man who gave her part of his soul. The man who laid claim to a piece of hers.

 

In his arms, she finally felt alive again.

 

A loud and aggressive clearing of a throat from the hallway finally pried the two apart.

 

_"Are you finished yet?"_ Torbjörn complained loudly, his arms on his hips. "She's my friend too, you know."

 

Brigitte, huddling behind her father, gave him a stern but affectionate slap on the shoulder.

 

_"Papa."_ She chuckled. "I was watching."

 

Reinhardt straightened with a hearty laugh and waved the pair over.

 

"Fine, fine! I guess I can share. Get in here! You too, Brigitte!"

 

Ana waved Reinhardt off with a laugh. "Plenty of me to go around, children." She joked, turning a warm smile to Torbjörn as she knelt down to hug him tightly. "It's so good to see you all again."

 

"The pleasure's mine, Captain." He replied affectionately as they parted. "I see we match." He commented, tapping the mechanical covering over his eye.

 

"Bet you never thought of yourself as a trendsetter, did you, Torbjörn?" She replied with an easy smile and shrug.

 

And a chorus of laughter rattled the Watchpoint walls once more.


End file.
